


Of Course

by e1aymae



Category: Sex Education (TV)
Genre: F/M, My First Fanfic, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:41:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24183802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/e1aymae/pseuds/e1aymae
Summary: Following immediately after the Season 2 finale, can Maeve and Otis figure it out & finally get it right?
Relationships: Otis Milburn/Maeve Wiley
Comments: 16
Kudos: 101





	1. Alone Again

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic about Maeve and Otis's relationship following the season 2 finale. I am in no way associated with the show, I'm merely a fan with too much time and too many theories on their hands! Please be aware that this is my first fic, so it may be a bit rough. Happy reading!

The dry grass crunches under her combat boots as Maeve crosses over the hill and away from the luster of the caravan park. As she lumbers forward, she gazes upward at the night sky, now on full display above her. A modest smile pulls at the corners of her lips. For a moment, she feels content. Her mind drifts from her Quiz Heads victory, to Aimee, and then to Otis.

_She can see herself with him back on the bridge last term. She can feel the slight itch of his jumper as he tugs at the sleeves to roll them up for her. She focuses on his eyes and without thinking begins leaning forward. Suddenly, she’s now back at the Ball as she’s watching Otis talk Liam down at the dance, “…_ **_Love isn’t about grand gestures or the moon and the stars, it’s just dumb luck, and sometimes you meet someone who feels the same way, and sometimes, you’re unlucky…”_ **

_Abruptly, her mind shifts. She can smell weed and… Is that chicken? She’s back in Otis’s house, stuck at the foot of his living room stairs, reliving a nightmare,_ **_“…Maeve Wiley just likes playing with people’s feelings and she doesn’t really care about anyone else…I think she’s probably the most selfish person I’ve ever met…”_ ** _His voice rings in her ears as she feels a burning sensation creep up the back of her throat. It’s only a matter of time before she starts to hear her Mother’s voice echo,_ **_“I will never forgive you.”_ **

In an instant, reality comes crashing down – She’s alone and unwanted. Again.

Maeve clears her throat and relaxes her shoulders as her eyes dart down. She’s reminded that she’s still wearing her Quiz Heads uniform and tugs lightly at her collared shirt under her leather jacket. Until this moment, she hadn’t realized just how obnoxious the color was, especially when paired with khaki pants – Even in the dark the shirt seemed to have a toxic glare about it. Maeve cringes at the thought that the entirety of the UK had just watched her on tele looking like a radioactive bottle of mustard. She releases the shirt from her grip, but makes a mental note to talk to Miss Sands about investing in burgundy apparel as soon as possible. 

Her pace quickens as the glow of the caravan park behind her begins to fade. She’s familiar with the terrain, but would rather get this late night excursion over with now that exhaustion was beginning to set in. As she passes through the tunnel of trees along the gravel path, she starts to feel the true chill of the evening around her. She tucks her chin into her chest as she sticks her hands deep into the pockets of her jacket. She notices the rhythmic sound of her footsteps as the wind begins to whistle through the treetops, but something’s off – it seems there is another shuffling rhythm coming from behind her.

She spins around, while she continues walking backwards in the same direction, but she doesn’t hear anything, nor is she able to make out anything unusual in the dark.

_Probably just an animal._

After about another minute, she hears the strange noise again. This time she stops on the spot and once again turns around before calling out into the night, annoyed,“Whichever arsehole is trying to fuck with me, I’m really not in the mood. And when I catch you, you’re going to wish you hadn’t, so I suggest you sod off.”

She waits a moment, staring into the darkness. No response, but the sound of her own breathing and the wind. She tuts and turns back to return to her trek. After another few minutes, she reaches the edge of a hazily illuminated Clayhill Bridge. As she begins to cross, she hears the same rhythmic sound, louder than that of the water below.

Initially, she thinks she’s imagining things – It had been a long day and she wasn’t in her normal state of mind. But when she hears the noise begin to grow louder, she freezes. Now stuck in the middle of the bridge, unable to turn around, she feels utterly terrified.

Maeve had never been one to be afraid of the unknown, in fact she quite enjoys those kinds of horror films, but after hearing Ola’s story last week about being followed Maeve was particularly uncomfortable. Not to mention adding **potential attacking** to this day, was not on her list of to-dos.

Unfortunately for her, the noise seemed to be picking up tempo and proximity.

For good measure, she tightens her right hand around her keys in her pocket. The bridge floorboards underneath her vibrate as the sound approaches. Maeve clenches her left fist as her heartbeat booms in her ears, drowning out all other sounds. When she feels something grab her shoulder she doesn’t hesitate. She twists on the spot to face her not-so-silent stalker while she pulls her right hand out of her pocket to unleash a cloud of mace pepper spray in their direction.

She shouts, “Take that, you sick Fuck!”

The stranger screams then coughs profusely as they stumble backward before tripping over one of their own ripped shoes. They slam into the nearest light pole before collapsing onto the bridge and into a pool of light – Maeve immediately realizes she’s not the victim, but the attacker – And, the stalker in question? 

_Otis. Fucking of course._

* * *

“Otis, what the fuck?” Maeve roars as she takes a step forward to look at him in the light.

Now huddled on the bridge looking like a sick animal with his arm in the air to deflect the light, he coughs, “Maeve? I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Ah! Jesus. It burns to open my eyes and talk. I-I shouldn’t have snuck up on you.”

“Yeah, no shit!” Maeve spews.

Otis spits onto the bridge’s wood planks, disgusted and wincing. He then rolls onto his side wheezing like he has the black lung, looking completely defeated and helpless.

Maeve’s guilt starts to overtake her feelings of frustration and she recognizes that means that she’s going to do something stupid: And, help him.

She rolls her eyes at her own self awareness takes a deep breath before shoving her mace pepper spray attached to her keys back into her jacket pocket. She steps forward and leans down as she tries to grab his arm. Still with his eyes closed, he flinches and retracts at Maeve’s touch.

“Calm down Dickhead, I’m not going to bite…Again.” She retorts.

She sees his body somewhat relax as he nods a bit too excessively. She contorts herself to use her left hand to pull his arm up and around her neck as she uses her left arm to grab his waist. She attempts to raise him, but physically can’t on her own. She huffs, irritated.

“I can’t lift your carcass alone, so on three you’re going to have to stand, all right? One- Two- Three!” She exhales as the two of them shoot upwards and they wobble a bit before regaining their balance.

“Browns is just across the bridge and you should be able to clean up there – Just, keep up” She warns.

The two of them begin walking with Maeve still supporting most of Otis’s weight. She’s holding onto the wrist of his right arm which is still wrapped around her neck and has her left hand still wrapped around his back for extra support. Maeve is surprised to discover that while he isn’t all that heavy, he is a bit more toned than she expected. _Must be the bike riding,_ she thought.

Curiously, Otis has no trouble keeping pace with Maeve– It would seem that somehow even without being able to see they are a match in both stride and pace. As they cross the bridge, the winds whips around them bringing with it a variety of scents: The earthy aroma of the river below, the musky trace of a nearby fire and beyond the overwhelming stench of the pepper spray wafting off of him, Maeve also detects a hint of his aftershave, which has always reminded her of Cinnamon. When she catches herself smiling she immediately converts it into a scowl, irked.

After just a few minutes of walking, Maeve and Otis arrive outside of Browns Village Store in town. She sets him down on a nearby post under a streetlight as she untangles them from each other. When she steps back to take a look at him now under the light she realizes that while his eyes are still sealed shut, they were now surrounded by dark magenta circles, along with a splattered deep red rash across his face and neck. She stepped back in a bit of shock, clenching her teeth and sucking in air at the unseemly sight.

“Uh, I’ll be right back - Don’t move”She tries to sound consoling, but he really doesn’t look good.

Maeve pushes her way into the store as the cashier sets down his book casually, while asking if she needs any help. She’s surprised to see that he’s wearing a warn leather jacket _and reading Neruda? Bold choice._ He looks familiar but she can’t place him.

“Uh, my friend outside was pepper sprayed and we were wondering if he could clean up in your bathroom?” She inquires while pointing towards the door.

The cashier leans over the counter and through the window he can see someone hunched over a post. He responds sympathetically and gesturing to the back wall, “I would, but someone’s in there.”

Maeve sighs. _Great._

The cashier leans forward again and looks back at her before offering, “We do have a hose out front…”

* * *

“Ah, God…” Otis groans as he holds the hose gingerly towards his face letting the running water splash across the bridge of his nose and his eyes. For a few moments he’s able to rinse his face and pull the hose away before returning again to the water. The whole of his face burned and only the cool relief of the water made it feel remotely better.

He tries to contain it to the upper part of his face, but its only a matter of time before the water pressure increases and he loses control of the hose entirely. He douses himself in water soaking his head and most of his clothes before awkwardly dropping the flowing hose to the ground, spitting and snorting out water.

Maeve watching this unfold from a distance, suddenly realizes she had turned it on a bit too much, and rushes to twist it off. She makes her way over to a now sopping wet Otis.

“Are you all right?” Maeve questions.

“Yeah, I think so,” Otis coughs.

“Here, let me look,” Maeve steps forward to grab the sides of Otis’s face and turns him into the light to check on the rash.

Otis jumps a bit at the cool touch of her rings on his cold, wet skin and blinks at her a few times before finally being able to squint to see her properly in the light. He sees her brow furrow inquisitively as her mouth forms into a tight line. He notices that most of her dark eye make-up was gone except for a small bit under her right eye which looked smudged. Her hair was parted down the middle and slightly crimped just above her ears. He liked it when she wore it that way.

She continues examining him carefully under the light as she moves his head around to look at all sides of his face.

Thankfully, it looks like the inflammation is going down. When she comes to the conclusion that he’s probably going to be fine, she relaxes her face and realizes that he’s been staring at her. Maeve swallows hard and drops her hands before looking at the ground and stepping back, away from him.

“I think you’re going to be fine,” She nods curtly.

“Mm-hm” Is all he can seem to manage to get out. He’s freezing cold and can feel his teeth chattering. 

Suddenly annoyed, she crosses her arms and looks up at him. “What the Hell were you doing following me?” She implores.

“I wasn’t f-following you…” He squeaks.

He notices that she’s now upset and he clarifies, “I mean - Yes, I s-saw you on the b-bridge and thought I would try and t-talk to you,” He mumbles.

“What about?” She barks.

When he looks up at her to speak, he stops himself. He knows what he wants to say, but he recognizes that neither of them are in a place right now to have that conversation, so he changes his approach.

“I wanted to congratulate you on your NSQC F-Finals win. I know I left you a v-voicemail, but-”

“Fucking Hell,” She snaps. _My phone._ It’s at this moment that she realizes she’s misplaced her phone, which could now literally be anywhere between her caravan and the store. She’s absolutely over this day, and is ready for it to be over. 

“Look, Otis – For what it’s worth, thanks, but it’s been a really long day and I don’t really feel like talking.” She pleads.

“O-Okay,” He concedes.

“I should go,” She retorts and turns to leave.

“B-bye Maeve” He calls.

The lights outside of the store flick off and Otis stands there dripping wet in the dark. He’s able to make out Maeve’s form for a few moments until she disappears completely into the darkness. He rolls his head back to look up at the night sky. She’s left him alone and soaking wet. Again.

Meanwhile Maeve trudges back over the bridge, through the tunnel of trees towards the caravan, consumed with her thoughts.

_Of course it had to be Otis._


	2. Circle the Drain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maeve and Otis deal with the fallout from events of the S2 finale + Maeve's surprise pepper spray attack in a series of vignettes the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys,
> 
> I apologize for the massive delay in getting out Chapter 2 - With everything going on in the world I needed some time to myself. This chapter changed pretty substantially from what I had planned, but that's life. For awareness, I wanted to write this chapter as a series of vignettes, rather than a traditional full-fledged story as Maeve and Otis spend most of this chapter physically apart. I'm planning to write the follow-up chapter more in line with Chapter 1, but this was my attempt at exploring a slightly different style. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy reading and feel free to let me know your thoughts in the comments! 
> 
> Thanks,

**Chapter 2: Circle the Drain**

When Otis’s alarm clock drones alive at the crack of half-past-seven, he’s not surprised. He’d hardly gotten any sleep last night, after he spent much of the early morning trapped in thought, concocting up how to best approach Maeve today. He ended up dozing off somewhere between, “ _Hi,”_ and “ _I’m in love with you.”_

Otis blinks awake lazily as he rolls onto his left side. He reaches across his bedside table and slaps off the loud tinny alarm, now ringing in his ears. Otis yawns as he slides his sheets off and pushes himself out of bed. He rubs his eyes aggressively with his left hand as he drags himself across his room and into the upstairs hallway.

He recalls that the last time he felt this bad was when he was hungover the morning after his party. He winces at the memory of all that came with that stupid evening, as he pivots into the bathroom.

Otis stops cold at the stark sight of his own reflection in the mirror. Staring back at him is an alabaster figure with circles around its eyes. Across his jawline, neck, and arms is a splotchy red rash, which promptly stops at his collarbone. Otis moves his hand to touch his face.

“What the Hell?” Otis spouts a bit too loud as he pushes and pulls at his skin.

After a few moments, Jean’s response echoes from downstairs, “Is everything alright, Darling?”

“I’m fine– Everything’s fine, Mum!” He calls back quickly while jostling to shut and lock the bathroom door. He jumps to turn on the shower, stripping off his clothes, before hopping into ice cold water – Looks like Jean beat him to the bathroom this morning…

* * *

Meanwhile in Caravan E19 of the Southchester Caravan Park, Maeve bookmarks her latest re-read chapter of _Middlemarch,_ before rising from her kitchen alcove to put her empty mug in the sink. As she turns on the faucet to rinse out the mug, she notices that the water isn’t actually draining and is instead beginning to pool in the bottom of the sink.

“Christ,” She huffs as she twists off the faucet and rolls up the right sleeve of her red flannel shirt.

Maeve gingerly reaches her hand, and by extension most of her forearm, into the disposal to blindly feel around for the blockage as her bracelets jingle. In just a matter of seconds, she’s pulling her arm clear of the drain to reveal the bright pink cap of a well-chewed sippy cup. As the water begins to funnel and disappear into the drain, Maeve stares at the neon plastic pinched between her fingers. She runs her thumb over the chewed spout as her arm drips dry. She feels a hitch in her throat while her chin begins to quiver. _Elsie._

Maeve stands frozen there in front of the sink lost in thought for a few moments before her spell is broken by shouting coming from outside of the caravan. Quickly recollecting herself, she sets the cap on the counter and grabs a nearby kitchen towel to wipe off her arm before moving towards her front door. She pushes open the door of the caravan to reveal a shouting match coming from across the way at Joe and Isaac’s.

“I told you to leave it alone, but you just couldn’t help yourself!” Joe aggresses, "Why do you always have to push?” He pleads.

Intrigued and somewhat concerned Maeve slowly makes her way down her caravan steps and towards the commotion. She stops just out of sight beside their front door as she continues to eavesdrop through the open window.

“Because I’m sick of it- Of all of it!” Chokes out a voice, Maeve recognizes immediately as Isaac. “I’m the older brother, alright? Me! So for once, let **_me_** handle it.” Isaac declares.

“You know what? Do whatever you want, it’s what you’ll do regardless.” Joe relents as he kicks open the front door. Before Maeve has time to slip away, he spots her. “Ah, Bodyslammer- Maybe he’ll listen to **_you_**. I’m late.” He snarks as he pushes past Maeve, the force of which spins her around to face the opposite direction.

As Maeve watches Joe storm off, she notices that she wasn’t the only nosy resident listening in. A couple was stopped between the caravans and shifted from watching Joe disappear to staring at her. Now annoyed herself, she challenges the two strangers, “Is there a problem? No? Then what are you gawking at?” The suddenly offended couple quickly disappear around the backside of the caravan before Maeve turns back towards Isaac and Joe’s now wide open front door.

A particularly smug Isaac rolls forward to park himself in the doorway.“My hero,” he says in a mocking tone.

“Shut up,” Maeve retorts as a slight smile pulls at the corners of her lips. “What was all that about?” She inquires.

“Nothing. Joe just gets worked up sometimes when he’s been out all night,” He explains as he rolls his eyes. “Speaking of last night - Forget something?” Isaac probes, raising an eyebrow.

“Look, I’m sorry, alright? The shops were already closed when I got there and by the time I got back I just wanted to pass out,” Maeve offers. It may not have been the whole truth, but a half-truth was all she was willing to offer him this morning.

“Still, you could have texted or called,” Isaac pushes, unsatisfied.

“I. Would. Have,” Maeve emphasizes, annoyed, “But my phone seems to have fucked off.”

“Oh,” Isaac retorts in a sarcastically surprised tone, “You mean the phone you left in the kitchen?” He tilts his head sideways.

Maeve peers into the caravan and sees her phone exactly where she left it last night before leaving for the shops. She glances back to Isaac now holding an evil grin. “Dickhead,” she scoffs.

* * *

“You did WHAT? What did she say?!” Eric exclaims a little too excitedly as his handlebars slip in his hands before quickly regaining control.

“Nothing.” Otis replies deflated as he lifts one of his hands from his handlebars to pull at the hem of a black turtleneck he’s donning underneath his infamous red, beige, and blue coat.

“Nothing? W-What do you mean nothing?!” Eric exclaims. “Details, Oatcake!” He demands as he steers his bike closer to Otis’s.

“I left her the message. Then, when I didn’t see her at the play, I realized that it was probably something we should talk about in-person, so I turned up at her caravan, only she wasn’t there. As I was walking back to mine, that’s when I saw her. Unfortunately, she didn’t see me and my evening ended in Maeve mistaking me for a stalker, followed by a cloud of pepper spray.” Otis exhales, “Not only did I **_not_** talk to Maeve last night, this morning I woke up looking like a red Dalmatian, because apparently I’m also allergic to whichever brand of pepper spray she carries, so…”

“Ah, hence the Connect-the-Dots Hollywood chic,” Eric nods at Otis and laughs.

“Eric, it’s not funny! What am I going to do?” Otis screeches as he moves his free hand to scratch under his ear.

“Okay, first of all: Chillax! If there’s one thing I know better than anyone else, it’s how to pull together an ensemble- Even one as tragic as whatever this is.” Eric gestures up and down at Otis’ choice of wardrobe. “And secondly, be proud of yourself, dude! You finally told Maeve how you felt!” Eric reminds him.

“Well, her voicemail anyway,” Otis corrects.

“You told her you loved her - The where doesn’t matter, only the what.” Eric reassures and smiles to himself, staring straight ahead.

“Ah, that’s right. After the play, I’d have to say that you’re the new expert on relationships,” Otis pokes, “How **_is_** Adam?”

“He’s fine…” Eric responds concisely trying to contain his excitement.

“Uh huh. Done any hand-holding lately?” Otis smirks and makes eye-contact with Eric.

“Okay. Keep it up, Otis, and I’ll look forward to seeing you solve your own fashion crisis,” Eric laughs loudly as he speeds ahead of Otis.

“No! Eric, wait up!” Otis calls, peddling after him.

* * *

As Maeve swings open her locker door, she lets one of the braided handles of her grey tote bag slip off one shoulder. She reaches deep into her now open bag to pull out and transfer all of her textbooks in a swift motion. Efficient, although not altogether graceful, Maeve succeeds in getting mostly everything into her locker before the two topmost books slip through her arms and clatter to the ground. She sighs as she crouches to collect them. She turns the first book over in her hands to dust it off and when she follows suit with the second, she quickly realizes she’s holding the Five Year Diary Otis gave her for her Birthday.

As she rises to her feet, she slips the first book into her locker without looking, leaving only the Diary in her hands. She stands there for a moment staring at the cover before slowly tipping it open. There, on the first insert page scrawled in bright blue ink was an inscription that read:

_To: Maeve_

_From: Otis_

_Remember: Pessimists outlive optimists._

_Happy Birthday, oh joyous one._

Maeve lets her fingertips graze over the inscription briefly as a smile pulls at the corner of her lips. The sound of a nearby locker slamming shut jolts her into the present as she claps the Diary shut and slyly returns it to her tote bag before slipping the loose handle of her bag back up over her shoulder. When Maeve looks up, Aimee and Steve are making their way towards her.

“Hey Babes!” Aimee beams as she skips up to Maeve.

“Morning Aims,” Maeve smiles. “Hey Steve,” she nods. Maeve takes note that they seem to be the only Sixth Formers in the hallway. “Any idea why Miss Sands asked us here early?” She questions.

“It probably has something to do with Assembly this morning.” Steve offers as he hugs his Trigonometry textbook to his chest.

“What’d you mean?” Maeve says suddenly sharp as she shuts her locker.

“I expect there’ll be an announcement, because we won the Championship?” Steve says confused and slightly inquisitive. Even after almost 9 months of dating Aimee, and more recently being in Quiz Heads with Maeve, Steve still felt a little uncomfortable with Maeve’s intensity.

“Yeah! You guys are like, famous now!” Aimee chimes.

Steve and Maeve smirk at each other before the three of them turn to make their way toward the Aptitude classroom. 

* * *

"Oh my God, would you stop moving?” Eric urges as he pulls back from Otis with a used beauty blender.

“Sorry,” Otis whispers, as he plants his feet firmly on the floor of the stage as Eric leans forward to continue blotting the beauty blender along Otis’s jaw and visible parts of his neck

Eric had snuck them backstage of the Auditorium, where Drama class met and more recently where the Romeo & Juliet cast had converted into their make-up station for the play. “I’m almost- done,” Eric says as he swaps the beauty blender for a make-up brush. With a final wipe he leans back to take in his masterpiece, “Et Voilá,” Eric declares.

Otis stands up to look at himself in the mirror and is shocked. Not only is his rash gone, but Eric had turned him into a classy 1950s looking cool guy. But this was only because Eric had elected to **_borrow_** a grey jacket along with a pair of slacks from the costume department to pull everything together.

“Eric, you’re a genius!” Otis exhales, still reeling from how impressed he is as continues to spin around in the mirror.

“I told you, Casual Hamm.” Eric quips as he raises an eyebrow with folded arms. “Now let’s get out of here before Assembly starts and someone realizes you’re wearing a costume from last year’s production of _An American in Paris_ ” He urges pushing Otis from behind. “On y va!”

* * *

"Good Morning Mooredale! I will keep this brief. My name is Maxine Tarrington. As many of you know, I am Chairman of the Board. I am here today to let you know that Headmaster Groff will be on sabbatical for the remainder of the term.” Her voice echoes around the room.

With this news, raucous applause and cheers erupt from the auditorium. Maxine leans back from the microphone for a moment to let the noise die down before continuing, “In his absence, I will be stepping in as temporary Headmaster,” she pauses for additional applause, but is met with mostly silence. She clears her throat, “Until we can find a replacement before he returns.” 

“Now for your monthly updates...“ The students drone out at the mentions of Bake Sale and Drama Club. 

“...Finally, it has come to my attention that we have four brand new National Student Quiz Champions in our midst – So, will Vivian Odusanya, Steven Morley, Maeve Wiley and Dexter Thomson, please join me onstage.” Maxine pushes back from the podium and gestures for the students to join her.

“Wait, onstage?! What? That wasn’t part of the deal- No!” Maeve whispers angrily as Aimee and Steve nudge her out of her seat and into the open aisle. Now exposed in the aisleway, she quickly follows behind Steve to the stage as the auditorium sits mostly in silence, except for a distant sing-song “Cock biter’ shouted from the back of the room followed by snickering.

Once onstage, the Quiz Heads stand awkwardly in a line: Viv, Dex, Maeve then Steve. 

“There we are. These four students competed yesterday at the highest level in the country and have brought home Mooredale’s very first national title,” Maxine explains. As she does two students roll out the massive NSQC First place trophy given to the team in victory. “So, it seems only right that we give them a warm Mooredale Congratulations, what do you say?”

Maeve looks at the stage floor and waits for the laughter and the jeering to commence, but she's utterly surprised when Maxine’s request is actually met with applause and cheering from her peers. She looks up to see all of her fellow classmates animatedly responding. She can make out Aimee wolf whistling, Jackson pumping his fist, Miss Sands proudly clutching her chest, and then she catches Otis stare - He’s not shouting or jumping in his seat like Eric, he’s merely smiling and clapping while looking straight at her. For a moment it seems like it’s just the two of them there, and in that moment she feels her pain and sadness wash away. She lets her face that’s been fighting to contain a smile, break into a grin, followed by a laugh. When Steve bumps her shoulder, she comes back to reality, smiling at her team before bumping Steve back. 

“Yes, thank you Quiz Heads! And thank you Mooredale – That is all from me this morning. You are dismissed to return to your classes, have a wonderful day.” Maxine confirms.

As students begin to exit the Auditorium en masse, Maxine makes her way over to the Quiz Heads who are now speaking to an animated Miss Sands in the front row. “Thank you for indulging me in a bit of school spirit there, I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed that. I wanted to let you know that the local paper has reached out to me about doing apiece about the team, as well as a profile about each of you individually. This is a wonderful opportunity to highlight yourselves and your experience as you begin your Uni applications. I will have Miss Sands relay further details very soon. Congratulations again.” Maxine shares before excusing herself abruptly.

* * *

“What should I say?” Otis asks, slightly panicked, standing next to Eric in front of their open lockers.

“What do you want to say?” Eric replies, as he stuffs his books into his bag.

“I want to tell her that–“ Otis is cut-off before he can finish. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Milburn. May I have a word?” Headmaster Tarrington interrupts and motions to the side of them.

Otis nods aggressively before making very concerned eye contact with Eric, shutting his locker and stepping to the side.

“How-“ Otis clears his throat,” How can I help you, Headmaster T-Tarrington?” He inquires.

“Mr. Milburn, I was present at last night’s play where you revealed some interesting information about your extra curricular activities on campus.” Maxine reveals. “Now, I know that your Mother is a professional sexual health expert, but know that I do not tolerate **_unlicensed_** sexual advice **_to minors_** in my institution or on my campus, so I suggest that you find a new hobby until University. Do we understand each other?” She tests.

Otis nods aggressively before squeaking out a, “Yes Ma’am”

“Good” She retorts before turning on her heel and disappearing down the hallway.

Otis lets out a sigh as he falls back against the lockers.

* * *

Maeve looks back out, scanning the last bit of the exiting crowd to see if she can spot Otis, but no such luck. As she makes her way back down the stage stairs, she hears a familiar voice calling from behind her, “Hey Maeve!” Dex shouts as he waves to catch up with her.

“What’s up, Dex?” She says nonchalantly as she reaches her seat with her bag while Aimee and Steve stand nearby, engaged in their own conversation.

“Look, I know you’re Entrepreneurial and everything, but can you **_not_** mention the sex clinic you when we're interviewed?” He inquires.

“Why would I?” Maeve snorts, confused as she throws her bag over her shoulder.

“I mean, I just figured after Otis’s confession at the play you guys were like, advertising or whatever,” Dex retorts.

“What are you on about?” Maeve asks now genuinely annoyed.

“You don’t know? Otis told the whole audience last night, including Groff and Tarrington, that he was giving out sex advice,” Dex explains.

Maeve stands there dumb-founded. She feels her stomach bottom out and her ears start to ring. Without responding to Dex, she turns on her heel and marches out of the auditorium with only one thought on her mind:

_I’m going to kill Otis._


End file.
